


Once Upon a Time in an Ogre’s Cell

by kibasniper



Series: Femslash February 2021 [20]
Category: Puyo Puyo (Video Games), 魔導物語 | Madou Monogatari Series (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dreams, During Canon, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, Kidnapping, Kissing, Light Angst, Lovey-Dovey, Minor Character Death, Ogres, Past Relationship(s), Puyo Puyo Sun, Rescue Missions, Threats of Violence, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: Witch awaits her inevitable rescue by the heroine. When she opens her eyes, it seems nothing has happened.
Relationships: Arle Nadja/Witch
Series: Femslash February 2021 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134674
Kudos: 5





	Once Upon a Time in an Ogre’s Cell

**Author's Note:**

> femslash february 2021 prompt 20: superhero au.
> 
> still not doing the aus, so i took superhero and made it more so superhero archetypes like saving your loved one!

Witch cried out as her head smacked into the jagged, rocky wall. She moaned, her hands instinctively clutching the swelling welt underneath her cap. Screwing her eyes shut, she struggled to think as her mind throbbed, pulsing in tune with her rapid heartbeat.

When she pulled her hands away and opened her eyes, she hissed. Blood smeared along the crevices of her calloused palms. She felt the warm liquid trickling down her neck and shuddered. The back of her blue dress became a deep purple splatter painting.

Raising her head, she examined her cell. Three, claustrophobic walls made of uneven limestone surrounded her. Steel bars prevented her escape. Runes had been grafted on to them, protected with wards against her magic. Piles of sand filled the corners of the room, her body firmly planted on the dirt floor. A magic circle was carved into the ground. She recognized the inscription from her studies realizing any attempt at spellcasting would bounce right back at her and stun her a thousand times over.

She breathed in the familiar scent of dust, decay, and death. The stenches festered within the dungeon. Her captors, belligerent ogres wanting to make a pretty penny, had broken into her shop and captured her. She knew her world was a monstrous one, but to be attacked in broad daylight had shocked her so severely that she could hardly lift a finger to fight back.

She ignored their whispering and shadows crossing into her cell. The torchlights elongated the ogres’ bulging muscles and veiny forearms, the sight enough to make her nose wrinkle. They murmured about how much money they would make from a “fledgeling,” the underworld market always looking to seize prey such as herself.

“Her magic is cosmic. She could grow to be a strong magician,” one ogre said.

“Perhaps we can market her as a potential assassin. Her boss would keep her in line with a few possessions spells,” another replied.

“Well, the wench is still young. She doesn’t even have a true name.” He narrowed his three eyes on her. Witch scowled at his grotesque, deep green face and saliva-slicken fangs. “I know a pack of demons looking for a sacrifice. She’d make a perfect one.”

The other ogre looked her up and down. A flare of violation raced through Witch. She was thankful her heavy dress made it impossible for them to see the goosebumps on her skin.

“Yeah, she does look the part. One nick of that throat, and all her blood is gonna run on their sacrificial slab.” He punctuated his remark with a cackle.

“With that soft skin? Oh, certainly.” The first ogre raked his sharp, grime-infested claw against the bars, the sound offensive to Witch’s ears. “You hear that, sorceress? You’ll make a wonderful lamb for the slaughter.”

Witch snorted and rose to her feet. She gripped the wall for support, wishing she had her broom. The remains of it were splintered by her feet.

“As much as your party sounds amusing, I’ll rescind my invitation. My type of engagements are a little more high class than petty, demonic revelry,” she snapped, balling her hands into fists.

“Not like you have a choice in the matter. You ain’t got magic nor wits to save you from what’s coming next,” the second ogre shot back, cracking his knuckles.

“So, make this easy on us, will ya? We’ve won, and you’ve lost.” The ogre clapped his hand on his companion’s shoulder, and they turned to depart. “Enjoy what little time you have left, magician, before you meet your Creator.”

They bellowed with laughter, their brassy voices echoing as they swaggered farther away. When the click of a door affirmed she was alone, Witch sighed. She gathered her long locks of blonde hair and grimaced. Blood matted her tresses to her neck. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and assessed her wound. The welt seemed to stop swelling, but the slice down the center steadily oozed with blood, and she cursed the ogres for their brazen mistreatment.

“Honestly, getting kidnapped was bad enough, but they didn’t even have the courtesy to leave me in one piece,” she mumbled, a soft green aura enveloping her right hand. She focused her positive energy to her palm, soothing herself as she brought it to her injury. “Heal,” she whispered, sighing in relief as her skin knit back together, the blood crusting over on her back and the throbbing of her brain ceasing at once.

She hurried to her feet and approached the bars. She set her finger near one, clicking her tongue when a small bolt of lightning fired at her. It fizzled out before it could strike her chest.

“Really, this is a common trick. Grab the bars, get electrocuted,” she mumbled, shaking her head. She crossed her arms and paced in her cell. “Is there no shame in the world? Resorting to kidnapping innocent girls out of their shops and trying to sell them to the underworld? Is that what this world has come to?”

Her dramatics earned her the ire of the other victims. They groaned and shouted for her silence. Witch giggled, not bothering to ease her transgressions.

“And honestly, demons? What are they going to do? Just slit my throat and offer me to...a higher demon? How foolish!” Witch cackled behind her hand. The sighs of her fellow inmates clearly disapproved of her rhetoric. “No need for your somberness. I simply am much more important than you think. In fact, based on my superior reckoning and judgment, I will leave this place much sooner than I arrived.”

Grunts of humor emerged from the prisoners. The girl was clearly insane. She was such a poor creature, one meant to be pitied for deluding herself into believing she would be rescued. No one left the ogres’ lair unless they were sold or chopped into meat. Not a single soul escaped alive.

But the smell of smoke halted their laughter. It slipped through the door and purified the air. Witch grinned and reclined into the wall, arms crossing over her chest.

The door blew apart. Wooden splinters crashed into cells. With it were the ogres, who were blown onto their scaly backs. Fire blazed on one beast’s scalp, boiling his flesh as it rushed downwards. The other scrambled away, whimpering and crying, but a lightning arrow pierced through his back, the satisfying snap of his spine making Witch giggle.

The inmates cheered for their savior as she waltzed down the pathway and fired off incantations to break the bars. They ran outside, praising her and rushing to their freedom with arms wide open.

The heroine paused in front of Witch’s cell. She rolled her eyes as Witch wiggled her fingers at her.

“Witch, how did you let this happen? I went to your shop for potions, and all I found was a decimated hut,” Arle sneered, snapping her fingers. White energy traveled along the bars and broke them.

Smirking, Witch gathered the remnants of her broom and held them to her chest. “I will have you know that I had my back turned when they invaded,” she countered.

“And you didn’t hear their very loud footsteps? These guys stomped everywhere,” Arle remarked, grinning up at her. She smoothed her thumb along Witch’s cheek and brushed her hair back. “But it's good knowing you’re safe.”

“Once again saved by this world’s greatest hero,” Witch said, pretending to swoon.

Arle, thinking Witch was truly fainting, yelped and held her arms out. Catching her before she fell, she sighed but quickly grumble when Witch clapped her hands on her cheeks. She smooshed them together, giggling and sneering that such a soft face hardly suited a battle-hardened mage.

“I’m still a sixteen-year-old maiden just like you,” Arle huffed as Witch pinched them.

“Such cherubic cheeks! Perfect for kissing,” Witch gushed. She pressed her lips to Arle’s jaw, feeling the heat blossoming in her face. “I love you.”

“Wiiitch,” Arle whined as Witch kissed her face. “You know this is the lovey-dovey stuff that embarasses me.”

“I love you, Miss Tomboy,” she crooned, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and rocking them both around. “I love you so very much.”

She couldn’t help herself when she continued squishing Arle’s cheeks. They made her lips puff out and easily kissable. She kissed along her face and to the bridge of her nose, Arle breaking into a giggling fit at the obnoxious level of affection.

“Witch, we’re in the middle of a smelly dungeon,” Arle whined, trying her best to stop smiling.

“We’ll be together forever,” Witch vowed through her kisses.

But then, a sharp pain erupted in her head. Her eyes snapped open as she shot to her feet.

She was in the middle of a field. The sun was burning, and the temperature was rising. She had taken refuge under the cool shade of a tree. Her agony persisted, throbbing in the back of her skull as she glared and bared her teeth at the girl clearly responsible for her troubles.

“Owowowowowow! Bah! Arle!” she growled, jabbing her finger at the frowning mage. “What a nasty surprise!”

Arle shrugged and closed her eyes. “I can tell you the same thing.”

Without another word, they jumped into a Puyo match. As they played Witch promptly forgot her dream, which left her feeling nostalgic when Arle bested her. When Arle went on her way to stop Satan, Witch sighed, longing for something she couldn’t remember.


End file.
